


A Little Less Romeo & Juliet, A Little More Touch Me

by PuddingTown



Category: IT (2017), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Bisexual Richie Tozier, Fake/Pretend Relationship, Fluff and Humor, Gay Eddie Kaspbrak, M/M, Minor Angst, Minor Eddie Kaspbrak/Stanley Uris, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Romeo and Juliet References
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-06-02
Packaged: 2020-03-09 11:06:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 11,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18915688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuddingTown/pseuds/PuddingTown
Summary: When Eddie has a chance to play a lead role in his theater clubs' take on Romeo & Juliet, he enlists his best friend, Richie Tozier, to pose as his boyfriend and help him snag the part. The only problem? Richie isn't acting.





	1. Act I

**Author's Note:**

> Instead of writing on the fics I have in progress, I started a new one. Bon appetit.

Another semester at Derry High School, another disappointing play selection.

Snow continued to fall as Eddie Kaspbrak walked alongside his best friend, Richie Tozier. The bus sped past them, shuttling a herd of kids to the elementary school down the road. Shivering as the icy air hit him, he breathed into his cupped hands, rubbing them together.

“When’s your van getting fixed, Rich?” he asked, his teeth chattering. Richie shrugged, stubbing out his cigarette on the heel of his boot.

“Eventually. I’ve gotta get some chains for the tires, with all this damn snow,” he complained, motioning to the hills of white surrounding them. As if on cue, he slid in a melted marsh flooding onto the sidewalk, swearing as he stumbled, his arms pinwheeling to keep balance. Eddie couldn’t help but giggle. “As soon as graduation rolls around, I’m getting the hell out of here! California dreams and no fucking snow.”

Eddie chuckled again, rolling his eyes. Ever since they were kids, taking the bus to Derry Elementary, Richie talked about his dream of driving to California and starting a career as a comedian. When they were five-years-old, he was the class clown. Not a day passed where he wasn’t kicked out of the room for causing a disruption. Once, he made Bill Denbrough laugh so hard, he pissed his pants.

His dreams only blossomed from there. Richie claimed he wanted to be the next Donald Glover, a statement that earned him copious side-eyeing from their friend, Mike Hanlon.

 _“Not like_ **_that_  ** _Mikey, my guy-”_

_“The hell you mean ‘like that,’ white boy?”_

_“He does it all. I wanna do it all too.”_

By the time they were freshmen in high school, comedy wasn’t enough. Richie wanted to make music. He wanted to act. Direct. Produce. He wanted to dip his hands in everything Hollywood had to offer.

Eddie supposed their fondness of creativity was the reason they remained such good friends throughout the years. While he liked playing sports, and learning about mechanics in auto shop, Eddie had the most fun in his art and theater class. He met Beverly Marsh through those classes, and she was the first best friend he made outside of Richie. She shared his dream of going to NYU; they made a plan to leave after graduation, and find an apartment in New York to start their lives.

“Why the long face, Spaghetti Man?” Richie asked, tilting Eddie’s chin up. Eddie swatted his hand away, his mouth twisting into a pout. They walked up the stairs to the main entrance of the school, students swarming around them as they met up with their friends or headed to their lockers.

“Same old, same old,” Eddie sighed, shoving his hands in the pockets of his pastel blue jacket. Richie waited, knowing he’d go on without much prompting. “We’re picking a new play today, and they always suck! I can’t wait for Marcia and Peter to graduate- _fuck_ , I hate them!” Pulling his snowcap over his eyes, he groaned. Snickering, Richie tilted his chin up again.

“There, there, Sugarbear. It’s only a semester,” he said, a poor attempt at comforting his friend. He heard this complaint before - several dozens of times, in fact. Marcia Fadden and her boyfriend, Peter Gordon, were president and vice president of the theater club. Although everyone voted on what plays they would perform, and who would get the parts, Marcia liked to exercise her power of vetoing.

“I’m gonna be a senior next year! I’m running out of chances to show off what I can do!” Eddie cried, huffing as he folded his arms over his chest. Richie squeezed his shoulder, offering an apologetic glance as the bell rang. He left for his class, meeting Mike at the end of the hall. Casting one more look over his shoulder, he waved to Eddie before disappearing.

Kicking a broken pencil at his feet, Eddie’s shoulders slumped as he walked towards the auditorium. Kids in Theater III and IV were lumped into one class, seeing as most of the students only took up to a second year to receive both fine arts credits, and Derry's population was the smallest in Maine. Eddie hated the first years, and might not have stuck with it had he not joined the after school club. No one took it seriously back then, except for himself, Beverly, and a boy named Stan Uris.

Stan was a year above Eddie, but he didn’t hang out with the other seniors in their club. As far as Eddie could tell, he didn’t like Marcia or Peter the way everyone else did. It was a shame he would graduate with them - Eddie wouldn’t have minded spending another year with Stan. They were the only two openly gay students in the whole school, and while everyone thinking they would date was definitely annoying, he couldn’t deny he liked the idea. Stan Uris was cute, and underneath the neatly ironed, gingham button-ups, his arms were muscular enough to made Eddie weak in the knees.

But he’d die before letting the uncreative minds of Derry, Maine lump him and his only option together.

Of course, people used to think he and Richie were dating, since Richie came out as bisexual during their sophomore year, but he preferred flings over anything else.

“Eddie!” Beverly called out to him, waving from the stage. Her legs were swinging over the side, and she reached out to help him climb up. “You’re gonna love the picks for this semester.” Immediately, Eddie groaned. He could tell from the sarcasm dripping in her words, she didn’t mean it at all.

Handing over the syllabus, Eddie skimmed down to the list of plays. There were tally marks beside the titles, signifying how many votes each one had. Beverly usually designated herself to keeping tabs; she always arrived at the auditorium first, proving herself a more fitting club president by actually getting work done. She insisted she didn’t want the responsibility, but Eddie saw differently in her eyes. He wanted to comment, but the votes distracted him.

Even if he chose anything else, Romeo & Juliet won by a landslide.

“Oh for fuck’s sake!” he shouted, censored in the nick of time by the bell. “If we do Romeo and Juliet,  _I’m_ going to kill myself! It’s been done, Beverly! It’s so boring! Two straight kids get fucked over by their parents, stuck in their old ways, but love each other against all odds. Boo-freaking-hoo! Do you realize the political climate we’re in?” Beverly rested her chin in her hands, beaming up at Eddie. Before they met, he didn’t pay much attention to politics. Beverly, however, considered herself an activist. She enjoyed seeing Eddie become passionate about his rights. “Tell me about Ramona and Juliet! Or Romeo and- and Julian! Tell me how their parents’ prejudices and limited world view keep them apart. _That_ is interesting!”

Unaware of his classmates surrounding him, Eddie paused only to take a breath before continuing.

“Tell me about- about how instead of dying, Julian can save Romeo at the last second. Let them share a kiss, but this one is rejoicing, because they’re _allowed_ to be happy and in love. It’s significantly more attention-grabbing, it’s bold, it’s relevant-”

“It’s controversial,” the drama teacher, Ms. Winslow, said. Striding down the aisle, she stopped  in front of the stage, staring at Eddie. His face burned, and he glanced around, seeing all eyes were on him. Marcia glared, fuming at his critiques. His stomach soured; he’d be lucky to score a part as an extra at this rate. Part of him wondered if he wanted to do the play at all. With Marcia and Peter’s tyrannical rule, an important role given to Eddie would be Mercutio. Flamboyant. Probably queer. Killed. He was too proud for that. Before he could voice his conflictions, Ms. Winslow spoke again. “I, for one, love it. Mr. Kaspbrak, I say we take your idea and run with it. We’ll have a writers’ room and make changes to the script as necessary. All in favor?” Her brisk tone took Eddie by surprise.

Ms. Winslow wasn’t a woman to mess with. She carried herself with an air of authority, and didn’t pay much mind to the principal or school board. Rumor had it, she was related to someone there, but nobody knew for sure. She moved to Derry before Eddie started high school, but he still heard about her. She came from New York, finally retiring after a lifelong career on Broadway. Being stared down by her felt like being set on fire.

“I’m down,” a voice echoed out from backstage. Stan pulled back the curtain, his hand raised. Slowly, all the other hands on stage rose. Beverly held up both of hers, waving her arms back and forth as everyone else put theirs down. Scowling, Marcia stormed across the stage, planting herself in the center for everyone to see. Clearing her throat, she plastered on her fake smile and took over.

“Okay, well, this certainly took a turn. Thanks for that, Eddie,” she said, her chipper tone more like an ice dagger, meant to stab him. Eddie shrugged, smiling back at her. “Alright, so Eddie and Stan are going for the leads? No one else here is... Well, I guess _I_ could dress up as a boy for the role of Julian.” Eddie’s eyes widened, his mouth gaping as he tried to form words of protest. Although Stan was clearly disappointed, he shook his head.

“I didn’t want a lead role. What’s wrong with someone playing alongside Eddie? It’s called acting,” Stan commented. His monotone voice somehow was more scathing than anything Eddie could’ve come up with. Marcia’s eyes narrowed to slits as she scrutinized him.

“It’s tradition, Stan. It’s good luck to cast a couple for the lead roles, especially in plays as classic as this,” she said coolly.

Eddie felt the words rising in his throat before he could process them. He didn’t often have outbursts, but he was on a roll today, and showed no sign of stopping. The world seemed to stop though, as his lips parted. Stan, Marcia, Beverly, and all his other classmates were cardboard cutouts. The stage lights were blindingly bright. Ms. Winslow watched him as if she expected this fight.

“I have a boyfriend, and he’d _love_ to join theater club!” Eddie exclaimed. Once again, all eyes were on him. Doubtful, Marcia threw her head back and laughed. Beverly stood up, but Eddie held her wrist, knowing all too well she would start a fight for him. “I’ll bring him after school when we hold auditions! Until then, why don’t you lead us into revisions?” His attempts at scathe definitely didn’t hold a candle to Stan.

The class dragged chairs from backstage, setting them up in a circle to review and rewrite the script. For the most part, Ms. Winslow left them to their own devices, electing to come out of her office when she saw they might’ve been struggling or straying from the objective. Eddie noticed her on the phone, watching her through the little glass window. Oftentimes, he could overhear her with old friends from New York. He didn’t know if these were the same friends who taught at Juilliard or NYU - the very same ones she invited each year to watch their plays - but he didn’t know who else it could be.

His leg bounced as ideas were thrown out, some sticking, others being disregarded entirely. By the time the bell rang, a new (although rough) script had been produced. Beverly carried it to Ms. Winslow’s office for editing, but Eddie bolted before she came back. Sprinting across campus, Eddie felt an ache in his side, but he pushed himself to keep running. He didn’t stop until he spotted Richie at the end of the hall.

“Richie!” he shouted, waving his hand to be seen over the crowd of students. “ _Move_ , I’m gay!” He huffed, pushing through them to get to his friend. Richie’s brow cocked, watching Eddie frantically scurry towards him. Grabbing Richie’s hand, Eddie pulled him towards the exit. Dragging him down the stairs, he didn’t stop until they were completely alone, underneath the staircase of the math hall. The cafeteria was in view; sometimes Richie would hide out here to smoke during his lunch.

“Eds, what’s up? The Boogeyman after you or something?” he teased. Studying Eddie’s expression, his brow furrowed. “Did you actually kill Marcia Fadden? Do I need to get my van gassed up for Mexico? Eds?”

“We’re doing Romeo and Juliet, and I might have a shot at a titular role,” he blurted. Tilting his head in confusion, Richie squinted, trying to make sense of what Eddie said. “Richie, I’m gonna need the biggest favor in the world.” Still bewildered, Richie scratched the stubble on his chin. Frowning, he pushed up his glasses with his middle finger.

“Not to rain on your parade, Eds, but you’ve told me a million times why that won’t happen. They only cast couples; we’re all doomed to watch Marcia and Peter make out on stage. Unless you decide you prefer innies over outies now,” Richie said. Eddie grabbed the open flaps of Richie’s ratty, army green jacket.

“I need you to be my boyfriend until the play is done,” he said, urgency in his voice. Richie’s expression was blank, unchanging for a moment. When it clicked what Eddie was aiming for, Richie didn’t know what to say. For the first time since they met, he was speechless. Eddie would’ve made a joke about it were he not so desperate. “I wouldn’t ask if I had any other options. I _need_ this, Richie, and I can’t do it without you.”

Richie blinked several times, suddenly wide awake. This morning, all he could think about was fixing his precious van. During first period, he spent most of it wondering what he would eat for lunch. Now all he could think about was eating Eddie. Shaking his head, he opened his mouth to speak, but the door behind them opened, and Marcia Fadden emerged.

“Huh. Well what do you know? You _are_ in a relationship, Kaspbrak!” she sneered. At once, Richie was defensive. When they were kids, he took a beating for Eddie more times than he could count. Eddie liked to talk a lot of shit, but the kids were always three times his size, and not afraid of juvie.

“Hell yeah he is!” Richie shouted, hooking his arm around Eddie’s shoulders and pulling him close. “He was just about to blow me, so uh... Marci if you don’t mind.” He waved her off with a flick of his hand, kissing the top of Eddie’s head. “Make like your hairline and recede, ma'am.” Scowling, Marcia flipped her hair over her shoulder, marching up the stairs.

Waiting for her to disappear inside, Eddie glared at Richie. He held up his hands in surrender, a smug grin on his face. The bell rang, but neither of them were worried. Richie was no stranger to cutting class, and Eddie had French, which he didn’t like in the slightest. A gust of wind blew, causing Eddie to shiver, and Richie shrugged out of his jacket, draping it around the smaller boy.

The grungy coat didn’t match Eddie’s aesthetic in the slightest. Richie and Eddie were as different as they could possibly be. Sometimes Richie would borrow his hair clips, but he didn’t wear them to accessorize or make a statement. He thought they were fun, but nothing more.

“I’m assuming that’s an agreement. Although I might be regretting it...” Eddie’s voice trailed off, but Richie pulled him in close again.

“I am too. My boyfriend is so bad at showing affection!” he whined. Eddie scowled, but Richie took his hand, placing it over his belly. “Rest your hand there when I have my arm around you. Grab my ass, if you want, but I recommend holding on. Look like you _wanna_ touch me.” Blinking, Eddie backed away to stare at Richie. Surprise didn’t quite cover it. He didn’t expect Richie to dive into this so quickly, nor did he expect _advice_.

“I know how to be gay, thank you,” Eddie said. Richie clicked his tongue.

“Doubtful, but we can work on it,” he replied. Leaning down so he was eye-level with Eddie, his hands on his hips and the grin still stretched from ear to ear, he puckered his lips and made a loud kissing noise. “So tell me, baby, how sexually active are we? I can’t tell you how long I’ve wanted to see your dick, dude; I’ve always been curious-”

“ _Richie!_ ” Eddie yelped, hitting Richie’s arm. He laughed, clearly more overjoyed than Eddie wanted him to be.

“Relax, Eds. We’ll play it by ear, but if we’re gonna do this, you gotta be convincing. You’re the actor, so it should be a piece of cake.” Slumping on the concrete floor, Richie tugged Eddie down with him. “You _were_ sort of my sexual awakening. I mean, I got my first boner at your house and jerked it in your bathroom. So, I basically lost my virginity to you.” Eddie was more than willing to sit in Richie’s lap, but now he crawled away, glowering at his friend.

“Can you take this seriously?” he pleaded, desperation obvious in his voice. Fishing a cigarette from his pocket, Richie lit up, taking a deep drag and blowing out a billowing cloud of smoke.

Eddie hated when Richie smoked. Beverly did it too, but she at least wouldn’t light one in his room. Whenever Richie came over, always opting to crawl through his window instead of take the front door, he usually did so with a cigarette between his teeth. He would make himself comfortable on Eddie’s bed, disregarding his muddy shoes.

“Eddie, my love,” Richie began, blowing smoke rings before continuing, “I am taking this very seriously. We should go over what kind of gross couple we are, if we’re gonna make this believable. No holes in this airtight fib, except the one I lick out every now and then. You know, I had a dream once where I ate your ass, and I always wondered what that was like-”

“ _Richie!_ ” Eddie’s voice cracked, and Richie chuckled. “Cool it with the sex stuff, okay? I’m not... I don’t- Let’s just keep that to ourselves, alright?” Leaning forward, his mouth twisted, Richie shook his head.

“Hang on, if I’m gonna pose as the best boyfriend in the world--” Eddie snorted, but Richie elected to ignore him. “--then I wanna negotiate on this. We have all day, Eds. First things first, I totally asked you out, and you melted in your cute little loafers.” Scoffing, Eddie rummaged through his satchel, opening his notebook to a clean page. He clicked the end of his pen, scribbling the word “terms” at the top.

“Okay, first of all, I don’t wear loafers. I know you’re joking,” he said, incredulous. “Second of all, I think _I_ am the one who started this, so I totally asked you out--”

“Nope! Nope! No deal!”

The pair bickered for most of the hour, resuming during their lunch break. Ultimately though, they reached a loose agreement. Richie took Eddie to a concert in Bangor, where he asked him to go steady. They made out all night on the bathroom sink, and the rest was history. Their relationship, while only a few months old, felt like years because of their pre-existing friendship. It was easy to get together. As simple as the lie was, it seemed foolproof. Their anniversary was September 13th. Their song was a tie between Eddie’s favorite, Mad About You by Belinda Carlisle, and Richie’s favorite, Heart Shaped Box by Nirvana.

“I’m not totally into flaunting my relationships, so we didn’t make a huge deal of it,” Eddie explained after his audition. The rest of the club listened intently, curious about the newly discovered couple. Richie held his hand, letting go only to hold Eddie’s waist and bring him closer. As practiced, Eddie placed on hand on his chest, and the other in his back pocket. He couldn’t help but notice how Stan eyed the touches, and his heart fluttered at the possibility of him being jealous.

No one said anything, so Beverly took the chance to stand.

“All in favor of these two being Romeo and Julian?” she asked. Instantly, everyone’s hands - excluding Marcia and Peter’s - shot up. Eddie’s eyes widened, his breath catching in his throat. Squealing in excitement, he turned to Richie. Holding his face, Richie leaned in. His voice was barely audible; Eddie himself almost missed it.

“I’m gonna kiss you, okay?” All those attempts at ventriloquism when they were kids paid off now. Eddie didn’t see his lips move a tiny bit. His hands on Richie’s neck, he closed his eyes, bracing himself. They would be kissing for the play soon enough. He figured he might as well get used to it.

When their lips met, Eddie thought perhaps Richie shocked him. He felt the tingle throughout his whole body, his mind forgetting to think, his lungs forgetting to breathe, and his knees barely remembering to stay locked and keep him standing. Richie’s tongue glided over his bottom lip, and Eddie thought he melted. Breaking apart, he couldn’t help but giggle. Remembering where he was, however, he snapped into focus, giggling again as though it were what he always did after kissing his boyfriend.

Meanwhile, Richie, who joked and joked until the jokes were too real, stared at his best friend and thought: _Fuck._


	2. Act II

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Someone caught feelings, oh no.

The sounds of a Whitney Houston record echoed from Eddie’s open window. Richie stood on his porch, hand in his pocket, as he grinned.

Since birth, Richie and Eddie lived side by side. Although he couldn’t recall the first time they met, his parents could, and Maggie never failed to remind him. While Wentworth grilled hot dogs and hamburgers for the Fourth of July, and Sonia and Maggie chatted over lemonade, Richie was taking his first steps. In nothing but a diaper, he waddled over to Eddie, who he noticed refused to leave his play mat. Try as she might, Sonia couldn’t get Eddie to like grass.

Excited to see another baby, Richie managed to stumble over, falling directly on top of Eddie and making him cry. According to their parents, the pair were inseparable ever since.

Scaling the trellis on the side of Eddie’s house, Richie climbed to his window, folding his arms on the sill. He rested his cheek on his forearm, watching his best friend dance around his room.

“-every time I think of you, I get so emotional, baby!” Prancing around his room, singing along to the record, Eddie didn’t notice Richie watching. When he couldn’t confidently sing along, he mouthed the words, his expression matching the mood. Grabbing a hairbrush from his dresser, he sang into it like a microphone.

To Richie’s surprise, not much changed when their relationship became public. He kissed Eddie in the halls every chance he got, but their friendship felt the same as it always had. Hanging out suddenly qualified as a date, and in the first few weeks, Richie struggled with the thin line between romantic and platonic. Neither of them experienced a real relationship before, and if Eddie was confused as well, he certainly did a great job of hiding it.

 _Why weren’t we dating before?_ Richie wondered, snickering as Eddie sang to himself in his mirror. The song ended, and Richie couldn’t help but applaud, eliciting a scream from Eddie as he startled him.

“Richard!” Eddie scowled, marching over. Rolling into the room before Eddie could shut the window, he smiled up at him from the floor. Standing over him, hands on his hips, Eddie’s face burned a bright red. “How long were you watching?”

Hopping to his feet, Richie held up a finger and said, “Just one verse.” He could hear the embarrassment in Eddie’s voice, which he never understood. The happiest he ever saw Eddie was when he didn’t give a damn. When he spoke and acted like no one else was around, he seemed the most free. He assumed this was the case for anyone, but he didn’t care about anyone else the way he did for Eddie.

“Well, what’s up? Did you wanna do something?” he asked, replacing his hairbrush. Since childhood, Eddie was accustomed to Richie dragging him around on adventures. As they got older, the adventures became less playing pretend, and more hanging out around town. Part of him missed the fantasy, which was also a reason he joined theater. He still held on to old costumes he and Richie would wear during their games.

Mildly insulted, Richie huffed and plopped down on Eddie’s bed, his hands behind his head. In the corner of his eye, he saw his Valentine’s Day gift sitting in Eddie’s moon chair. One of the notes on their relationship agreement was remembering birthdays and holidays, with Valentine’s Day being the most important. Richie scoured the stores for a decent gift, but ultimately went online for a present no one else would be giving at Derry High.

While Eddie was in his theater class, Richie had the giant bear delivered. It was about as tall as Eddie, and as wide as the both of them together. The bear held a heart, and the words “shit bitch you is fine” were printed in bold, capital letters across it. As soon as class let out, and the principal saw, he demanded the gift be removed from campus. Richie ended up driving his bear home, helping Eddie carry it upstairs to his room.

Eddie had the same mortified expression as he did when Richie caught him dancing, but (and he would never share this) he did manage to catch Eddie beaming at the bear, hugging it tight.

“You promised you’d treat me to a day at the carnival. It’s romantic, and also, an extremely late birthday gift that I’m _still_ waiting on,” Richie reminded him. His birthday passed at the beginning of the month, and while Eddie _did_ bake his signature butter cake for he occasion, he sheepishly admitted to losing Richie’s gift somewhere in his house. He refused to say what it was, in case he found it, but vowed to make up for the fumble with anything of Richie’s choosing.

One of his favorite times of the year was March, not only because of his birthday, but because of the annual pop up festival. Every time it breezed through Derry, he dragged Eddie out with their piggy banks and the goal of going broke.

“Oh! Right- Wait!” Eddie scurried into his closet, rummaging through boxes. “I’m still taking you, don’t worry, but I found your gift.” Bringing out a square package - neatly wrapped in pink paper with a matching ribbon tied in a loose bow - he handed the gift to Richie. For a moment, Richie admired it, before violently ripping the pretty cover. Eddie huffed, but smiled as he watched Richie’s expression change.

“Is this- _dude!_ ” Swinging his legs off the bed, Richie gawked at the CD, then at Eddie. In one swift step, he closed the distance between them, pulling Eddie in for a tight hug. “This is- how did you even _get_ this? I- Eddie, I can’t accept this- I can’t even imagine how much it costs- Eddie, _how?!_ ” He turned the signed copy of Nirvana’s Nevermind album over in his hands, reading each signature.

“You can totally accept it, considering I got it for a dollar,” Eddie said. Richie’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I found it at a thrift store when I was looking for fabric. I googled their signatures to make sure it wasn’t fake, and sure enough, they matched. I can’t guarantee the CD works, but I thought you’d like it.” A small smile on his face, Richie didn’t speak for a moment. Instead, he hugged Eddie again.

“Let’s see,” he said when he pulled away. Walking over to Eddie’s stereo, he slid the disk in, waiting for it to read. The first track began, and he slumped down on the floor, lying on his back. Holding out his hand for Eddie to take, he didn’t lower it until Eddie joined him. “Listen with me? Just a few songs.” He wrapped an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, staring at the ceiling for a moment before closing his eyes to enjoy the music.

Eddie knew of a few Nirvana songs, but he never listened to the whole album. When they reached a song he didn’t know, he glanced up at Richie. Rarely did Eddie ever see him so calm. He liked the effect Richie’s favorite music had on him; he was peaceful when he listened, and Eddie admired how his face relaxed. This was Richie when no one was looking.

“Is this what you wanna do after high school? Play music like this?” Eddie asked. Opening one eye, Richie peeked down at Eddie. His smile didn’t waver as he nodded.

“Play music, tell jokes, entertain. I’m gonna do it all, Eds,” he answered. Grimacing at the nickname, Eddie chose to ignore it. He placed a hand on Richie’s chest, making himself comfortable. After another song ended, Richie asked, “What do you wanna do after we graduate? I know you and Bev are college bound, but where? I wanna know where I can crash if I need a place to stay.” Eddie snorted at the thought, knowing perfectly well Beverly would be fine with the arrangement. She and Richie got along better than Eddie initially believed they would. He managed to annoy her the same as he did with everyone else he met, but she liked him.

“We’re going to New York,” he said. Imagining himself in a luxurious apartment, cell phone in one hand and a latte in the other, Eddie couldn’t fight the smile. He pictured lounging on a futon during rainy days, watching Netflix and ordering pizza from a local shop where they knew him by name. On sunny days when the weather was beautiful, he would study on the rooftop of his apartment building. “You know, that’s why this play is so important to me. Ms. Winslow invites her old friends from NYU to watch, and I want them to remember me. I wanna go there so bad, Richie. Have you ever had a plan that just... it can’t go any other way?” Sitting up, Richie nodded.

“I know exactly what you mean. That’s how it is with my career. I can’t do anything else; it has to be this,” he said quietly. Picking at a loose thread on his jeans, his smile finally faded. “I know it’s a long shot. Maggie and Went think I’m crazy; they’re dropping all these hints about community college and stuff, but I can’t- just- that’s not for me.” Without thinking, Eddie reached out to touch Richie’s hand. He'd never heard doubt in Richie’s voice until now. He couldn’t explain why, but he didn’t like it.

“You’re gonna be someone incredible, Rich,” he said softly. “You already are.”

If only for a moment, Richie forgot where he was, and what they were doing. It was all too easy to think what happened between them was just another normal day in the life. Even the kissing. Even the longing stares. Eddie might’ve thought Richie was a better actor than given credit for, but he wasn’t acting. He didn’t change anything about how he looked at Eddie Kaspbrak.

“I love you, Eds,” he whispered.

The words hung in the air for several moments. Richie didn’t wait anxiously for a response. He smiled at Eddie, meaning those words exactly how he said them. Eddie’s lips curled up slowly; he heard Richie say those three words before, but only lately did he realize how much weight there was on them. Opening his mouth to respond, he didn’t have a chance to get the words out before Richie stood up and lifted him to his feet.

“The carnival’s not gonna be open all damn night, Spaghetti Man. We gotta move!” Richie exclaimed. A tiny voice in his brain screamed to let Eddie say “I love you too,” but the rest of Richie was fueled by fear. He didn’t think he could handle hearing Eddie say those words, but not mean them the way he did.

Taking Richie’s van, he insisted Eddie drive. To Eddie’s credit, he made it down the street before panicking and demanding Richie drive the remainder of the way. He tried teaching Eddie, to no avail. With playful teases here and there, he took them to the carnival, the familiar excitement buzzing in his bones as he leaped out of the vehicle.

Although Eddie pulled out his wallet, ready to purchase their tickets, Richie arrived at the booth first. Yanking a wad of crumpled bills from his pocket, he pushed it across the counter, eagerly awaiting his tickets. Eddie clicked his tongue, watching him tape the bright blue band around his wrist. Grabbing Eddie’s hand, he taped his wristband securely, patting Eddie’s arm when he was done.

“I thought _I_ was treating you,” he teased. Shrugging, Richie hooked his arm around Eddie’s shoulders. His voice lowered, so only he could hear.

“Marcia’s dad was selling the tickets. She’s in the booth with him; I had to be a good top and pay for our date,” he whispered. Eddie groaned, laughing as he pushed Richie off of him. “You can make it up to me with carnival food. I want everything; candy apples, funnel cake, pizza, popcorn.”

“At once?”

Richie stopped, his face twisting as he stared at Eddie. Lifting his hands in surrender, Eddie nodded.

“I’ll let it slide just this once, Kaspbrak,” he said, mockingly stern. Glancing over at the food trucks as they walked further along the rows of games, he pouted his lips. “I might also want all of that at once, yes.” Snorting, Eddie rolled his eyes. While Richie studied the different booths and prizes, he left to buy candy apples. When he returned, Richie already slapped down a dozen tickets, and attempted to knock over a stack of glass bottles. On his fourth try, after exaggeratedly winding his arm and leaning over for a good luck kiss from Eddie, he managed to take down one of the towers. He almost picked a prize, when Eddie cleared his throat and pointed.

“What if I want one from the top shelf?” he questioned. Richie glanced at the specific toy Eddie eyed, a grin curling up the corners of his mouth.

“I’ll have to be a good boyfriend and win it, then. Won’t I?” Stealing another quick peck to Eddie’s lips, he wound up his throw again, knocking down a second stack, quickly followed by a third. The carnie picked up the bottles and softballs, motioning to the top shelf for Richie to pick a prize. Knowing which one Eddie would prefer, he chose the monkey with galaxy printed fur. “Is my sugar happy?”

Squeezing the monkey tightly, Eddie nodded. He whirled around, scanning the area for another booth.

“If there’s a Pikachu here, I want it too, okay?” he requested, and although he asked nicely, Richie felt more of a demand. Of course, he had no objections. As a kid, he used to dream of winning all the prizes that caught his eye. Not only did he have his own money to spend as he pleased, but he had someone worth winning for. Richie didn’t want much of the toys on display, but Eddie did, and that was more than enough for him.

By the time they made it out of the game section, Eddie’s arms were full, as was Richie’s stomach. With each switch of a game, Eddie wandered off to buy fries, or cake, or whatever else the cart had to offer. The giant monkey rode on Richie’s shoulders, while Eddie held a Pikachu the size of his torso, and a bag filled with silly glasses, an ice cream cone printed narwhal, a pink and green puppy, a silly "I Heart Derry" hat, and a handful of other small plush toys.

Dropping their winnings off back at Richie’s van, they returned with the intention of using their wristbands for the rides and funhouse. Venturing through each ride, usually exiting arm in arm, they managed to avoid the ferris wheel entirely. Eddie refused to go on when they were little, afraid they might tip out of their seats. Once they rode everything else however, Richie began gravitating towards it.

“Eds, if you come on this ride with me, I won’t make you drive home,” Richie bargained. For only a split second, Eddie contemplated, before huffing and taking Richie’s hand. Holding on to him tightly, he shut his eyes when the ride started, and they rose higher in the air. “It’s okay, Sugarbear. I’m right here with you.” The words comforted Eddie, if only a little.

 _I’d catch you if we fell. I just hope you’d catch me,_ he thought, biting his lip as he stared at Eddie. He wanted so badly to kiss the top of his head, but chose to wait. When they reached the top, Eddie tilted his head to meet his gaze. Richie leaned in slowly, his lips burning when they met Eddie’s. Kissing him carefully, he turned his torso, cupping Eddie’s face in both hands.

They didn’t pull apart until they reached the bottom.

Richie could’ve said anything. He knew well enough he could’ve - and probably _should’ve_ \- said what he was thinking.

Instead, he hooked his arm around Eddie’s neck and dug his knuckles into his hair and shouted, “Spaghetti Man, that was probably _the_ best birthday gift I’ve ever had in my life.” Scowling, Eddie squirmed away, fixing his hair when he freed himself from Richie’s grasp. While he laughed, shaking his head and walking towards the parking lot, Richie stared after him, desperate to call him back. The lights were gradually shutting off, seemingly following Eddie.

He didn’t say anything more significant on the drive home. For the most part, he let the music fill the silence as Eddie reviewed their prizes, naming each toy and joking about split custody. Parking between their houses, Richie helped him carry all their winnings up to his room, half wishing Eddie would invite him to stay. Or, at the very least, kiss him on the porch. They could waste another hour playing “just one more,” like all the other gross couples at their school who were joined at the hip.

Finding himself back in his own bedroom, Richie sighed. Lying on his bed, he stared at the posters covering every last square inch of the old wallpaper. Mindlessly tossing a stress ball into the air, he easily caught it in one hand. He didn’t know how long he lied there, but after a while, he sat up. His window faced Eddie’s; their rooms were directly across from each others, which they often took advantage of to keep talking well past curfew.

The light was on, but he couldn’t see Eddie. Biting his lip, Richie didn’t fully consider what he was doing as he tugged on his boots and walked outside. Once again climbing the side of Eddie’s house, he stopped just outside his room. He could hear a voice other than Eddie’s, and it took him a minute to realize it was Stan.

“I can’t believe you got accepted, like- I’m jealous. You’re going to my dream school,” Eddie said. Peeking in, Richie saw they were talking over a Skype call. “What’s the first thing you’re gonna do in New York? You better send pictures! And clear your schedule for when Bev and I move there!” Stan chuckled, smiling at Eddie in a way Richie wasn’t sure he liked.

“You’re set on NYU? I’d be relieved to see some familiar faces. We could all go get coffee or something. Even Richie, if he wants,” he offered. A wave of relief washed over Richie, and he almost felt bad for snapping to such defensiveness, but the moment was short-lived.

“Why would Richie wanna come to New York for coffee?” Eddie asked, clearly forgetting they were supposed to be dating. He remembered a second too late, seeing the confusion on Stan’s face. His shoulders slumped, and he looked around to make sure he was alone. Richie hid from view, narrowly escaping being caught. “Can I tell you something? You have to promise you won’t tell anyone else.” Stan didn’t say anything, but after a pause, Eddie continued. “Richie and I aren’t actually dating. He agreed to fake it so I could get the part of Julian. I know it’s not... ideal, but I couldn’t stand to see Marcia take another role. Especially this one.” Again, Stan didn’t say anything.

Richie chewed his bottom lip, hesitantly peering into the room again. As soon as he did, Stan was laughing.

“You’re really not dating? Like, for real not together?” he asked. The way Eddie perked up made Richie’s stomach sour.

“Nope! Just really good friends. He’s my best friend, but I mean, that’s all,” Eddie replied. Richie’s breath caught in his throat. His chest tightened, and the souring turned into an ache in  his belly. He didn’t want to hear anymore, but he couldn’t leave until Stan stopped talking to Eddie. He wanted to run in and throw the laptop to the ground, before-

“So I don’t have to feel bad when I ask you out to dinner?”

Too late.

Richie covered his ears, burying his face in his knees, but he could still hear the echo of Eddie’s giggle. He could block the noise all he wanted, but it didn't stop his imagination from conjuring the image of Stan and Eddie wandering New York together, possibly getting caught in the rain on their way home. They would share a laugh in the lobby and Stan would lean in for a kiss...

Sliding off the roof, ignoring the shock to his legs, Richie stumbled back into his house. He slammed the door to his room, swiping the curtains over his window so he wouldn’t have to see Eddie again.

* * *

Missing rehearsals wouldn’t have been a massive problem in the beginning, but the theater club was only a week away from their opening night. The sets were mostly finished, with final touches being added here and there. Eddie’s balcony for the kissing scene came together nicely, thanks to the kids in wood shop. He was looking forward to putting on the performance, if only Richie would show up. They hadn’t spoken since the carnival on Saturday, but Eddie didn’t notice. On Sundays, hanging out was a hit or miss. Sometimes Maggie and Went would drag him to church, while Eddie would visit family.

He started to realize something was off when Richie didn’t meet him outside his class. When Eddie woke up Monday morning, Richie’s van was already gone. They didn’t eat lunch together, and Richie didn’t respond to any of his texts. Had it not been for the set and decorations taking priority, Marcia might’ve noticed. Eddie was prepared to fib and tell the club Richie got sick, but he didn’t stop glancing at the door every time it opened, hoping to see him.

The hour dragged, but as he finally began his walk home, he wondered what could’ve kept Richie. Detention let out before rehearsal did, but there was no sign of his friend.

Upon turning onto their street, Eddie paused near the stop sign, seeing Richie washing his van. From several houses down, he could hear his radio blaring. As he approached, he heard Richie singing along. His voice was like an off-key twang of a banjo; as much as he teased though, he couldn’t deny liking Richie’s sound. It comforted him.

“Hey!” he shouted over the music. Ignoring him, Richie continued to wipe down the van. “I said _hey!_ ” Again, Richie paid no mind. His lips pursed, Eddie leaned into the van, removing the keys and turning off the radio. “What the hell, Richie? You blew off rehearsal-”

“Eddie, full offense, but fuck rehearsal and fuck that whole play. I quit,” Richie scowled. Tossing the rag over his shoulder, he lifted the bucket of water and poured it out over the grass. For a split second, Eddie was too thrown to speak. His lips parted, but his mouth was too dry. “I don’t wanna be an accessory anymore either. The relationship thing? That’s over.” Richie marched across the lawn, with Eddie hurriedly trailing behind him.

His voice was unnaturally cruel. Eddie had never heard this hardened edge before, and it frightened him. A lump formed in his throat, but he swallowed thickly, forcing it down. He wanted to match the firmness of Richie’s tone, but his voice came out soft. Nearly miserable.

“Richie, what are you- what’s wrong?” Eddie asked. Biting the inside of his cheek, Richie forced himself not to look at Eddie until he was certain he wouldn’t give in. Dropping the bucket, he took a breath and faced Eddie.

“Are you asking me because of the play, or is it something else?” he demanded. His voice lost most of the intensity, but his eyes were burning through Eddie. When he didn’t answer, Richie sighed. “Eds, what do you feel when I kiss you? Don’t you- is there anything?” Nothing in Eddie’s expression changed. Obviously confused, his brow furrowed. “Forget it. You know what, I hope you have a great time in New York with Stan.” Without leaving any room for discussion, Richie stepped inside, shutting the door behind him.

Stood on Richie’s porch, Eddie didn’t know what to do. It took him several seconds to grasp what happened; most of him was still standing beside Richie’s van, ready to playfully banter like they always would. Maybe even go out for a hamburger after.

He lifted his hand to knock on the door, but a sting in his chest stopped him. Physically, he was fine.

But Richie blocking him out hurt worse than any scraped knee or broken bone he could remember.


	3. Act III

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shout out to everyone who indulged me on this journey of tooth-gluing cheese.

“What’s the matter, Eddie?”

Lost in thought, Eddie perked up at the sound of his name. Blinking several times, he shifted in his chair at the dinner table. He had been tapping his fork on his stack of pancakes, poking holes in the top, but not taking a bite. Sonia watched him for several minutes, exchanging worried glances with Frank. Looking from one parent to the other, Eddie opened his mouth to speak, but promptly shut it.

“Are you nervous about the play? Do you still want us to come?” Frank asked. Biting the wall of his cheek, Eddie contemplated telling the truth.

Nodding, he pushed his plate away and said, “I’m just not hungry.” Sonia reached over, patting his arm and rubbing it soothingly.

“It’s breakfast for dinner. Your favorite,” she said, trying to tempt him. Giving her an appreciative stare, Eddie cut a small piece of pancake, popping it into his mouth. He didn’t feel too sick to eat, but therein lied the problem. He didn’t feel too much of anything. Not speaking to Richie left a hole in him; he felt it in the pit of his stomach - more than anything, he wanted his best friend to look at him again.

After years and years of seeing Richie’s smile everyday, the absence of it was noticeable in everything Eddie did. He never realized how accustomed he became to having Richie outside his classes. When he sat alone during lunch, he endured two minutes before leaving to hide in the restrooms. At least there, no one would see how lonely he was. Beverly tried to act like everything was normal, but Eddie couldn’t bring himself to match her energy.

_“What happened?” she asked, concern in her eyes. Beverly nudged Eddie’s foot with her own; he looked catatonic when she came into the theater. “Don’t tell me you two broke up!” At once, alarm replaced his distant stare._

_“I- wh- Don’t say that out loud! I don’t want Marcia hearing you!” he whispered frantically. As quickly as the panic overwhelmed him, however, it vanished. The dread of admitting the truth pulled him back into his misery. “I don’t know what happened...” His throat tightened and Beverly clicked her tongue, wrapping an arm around Eddie and squeezing him._

Frank and Sonia were staring at each other from across the table, having a silent conversation with their expressions, while Eddie was distracted yet again. Clearing his throat, Frank set his fork down.

“Is it about Richie? I haven’t seen him over in a couple days...” he said, testing the waters.

“Shouldn’t you two be rehearsing for the play?” Sonia chimed in, hopeful to get some sort of answer. Eddie sucked in a breath, his eyes burning. Blood rushed to his face; the flush across his cheeks was obvious even when he turned his head down. “Oh, honey, what’s wrong?” Her chair scraped on the linoleum floor as she stood up and approached Eddie. Holding his head in her arms, petting his hair back, she stared down at him sadly. Eddie wasn’t crying yet, but he had a feeling he would soon.

“I just really miss him,” Eddie whispered, his nose burning.

The worst moment in the past few days was easily when Richie blew him off. Eddie saw him in the hall, and lifted his hand to wave, his expression hopeful. Richie saw him - Eddie knew he did - but Richie ignored the wave, walking straight past him to catch up with Mike. Eddie stood in the middle of the hall, his fingers curling down and his hand falling to his side as their classmates disappeared into the rooms. He ran to the bathroom, cutting class to cry for the first time since their “breakup.”

“What happened, Eddie? Talk to me,” Sonia said, pulling back to cup his face. Eddie’s mouth twisted; he would’ve loved to talk had he known how to explain.

His parents knew he liked boys. They took care of this conversation years ago when Eddie was obsessed with Twilight. He was neither team Jacob, nor team Edward, but rather team “Edward’s brother.” When he pointed out the bigger, burlier boy and stated he wanted to marry him, Frank and Sonia embraced the development with careful questions. As time went on, and his preference didn’t change, they accepted the new normal.

“I asked him to pretend to be my boyfriend so we could get the lead roles. Marcia and her boyfriend hog them because they’re the only ones in a relationship, and I was sick of it. Richie agreed and- I don’t- I don’t know what happened, but he was so _angry_ ,” Eddie’s voice trembled. The first tear slid down his cheek, which Sonia promptly brushed away with her thumb. He couldn’t help but continue to cry. “I don’t know what I did- I don’t know how he- I just don’t _know_!” Sobbing, Eddie wrapped his arms around his mothers waist.

In the few minutes he cried, he finally allowed himself to realize how much he missed having Richie around. He missed tuning up Richie’s van, shouting angrily at him when Richie honked the obnoxious horn and scared him. He missed laughing until one of them shot soda from their nose at Jackass reruns on MTV. He missed just _talking_ to Richie, because even when they had nothing to say, the conversations were more compelling than anything he could say to Stan or Beverly.

Maybe Richie wasn’t smart in the way Eddie was, and maybe they were on different paths in life, but it never mattered before. Richie was Eddie’s favorite person in the whole world.

“I didn’t think you were pretending, truth be told,” Frank said when Eddie stopped crying. Wiping his eyes, Eddie stared at his dad. Taking his plate to the sink, rinsing it off, he chuckled. “You boys were inseparable; I thought, if Richie ever came out, he’d be the one. Not just cause you’re the only two in Derry who, ya know, go that way. You two care about each other. I’ve seen how you look at him.” Immediately, Eddie’s face burned again. He focused on his plate of pancakes, which Frank pushed closer to him, urging him to eat.

“Come to think of it, your father’s right,” Sonia added, handing Eddie his fork. He poked at another piece of pancake, carefully popping it into his mouth. “I always thought you’d look at a girl that way, but no, it’s... it’s been Richie.” Eating another bite, Eddie considered what they were saying.

“But it was just pretend, and-” Cutting himself off, Eddie thought about the last thing Richie said to him.

_I hope you have a great time in New York with Stan._

His Skype conversation with Stan left a sour taste in his mouth, his stomach curling at the idea of Richie hearing.

“Can I be excused? I just wanna go to sleep,” Eddie requested, his voice small. Sonia looked at Frank, and he sighed, nodding. Rising from the table, he hurried to his room, closing the door behind him. He fell onto his bed, burying his face in his pillow. For the past few nights, he didn’t sleep well. He tossed and turned, continually peeking through his window to see if Richie’s was open. On a whim, he leaned over to push back the curtain. A breeze blew, and his eyes widened. Richie’s light was on, and he could see him at his desk. “Richie!”

He called his name eagerly, his heart skipping a beat when Richie looked up and met his gaze. Richie’s expression remained blank, however. Tearing his eyes off Eddie, he huffed and stood up, shutting his window. The light went out, and Eddie whimpered, his face twisting as he tried not to burst into tears again.

* * *

First and foremost, Eddie didn’t want puffy, post-crying eyes during his debut.

Secondly, he didn’t want Stan to have no choice but to fulfill his duty as understudy for Romeo.

Thirdly, he didn’t want to keep fighting with Richie. He was sorry the moment Richie walked away.

Nothing was going his way though, and it wouldn’t, with only two hours before the play began.

Eddie sat in the dressing room, the vanity lights heating up his face. He halfheartedly dabbed a powder brush on his cheek, wishing Beverly could sit with him instead of working with Ms. Winslow on the sound and lighting. She was always the board operator, controlling the effects for their play. Eddie thought her job was vital, and he loved watching her focus on it, but he needed _someone_ to get him out of his thoughts. Sighing, he spun around on his chair, stopping when he noticed Richie’s empty station.

Or, at least he _thought_ it was empty.

A tattered journal sat on his table, the creases and cracks in the leather more clear in the lighting. Curious, Eddie picked up the book. He’d seen Richie scrawling in it during rehearsals, but he never thought to ask what he was doing. Opening to the middle, he squinted, unsure of what he was seeing. All the notes were chaotic, with no rhyme or reason until Eddie read them separately. His mouth curled up into a smile, realizing the method to the madness.

Richie wrote jokes in the corners, and the circle of words (starting from the middle and going outward) were lyrics. Movie ideas were drawn, more than they were written, with font similar to action effects in a comic book. Flipping through the pages, Eddie read the song lyrics, sometimes holding the journal closer to see what Richie scratched out. On the more recent pages, he saw notes regarding him.

~~_Buy Eddie flowers._ ~~   
~~_Remind Eddie to record dumb dating show he likes._ ~~   
_Ask Eddie if he wants to see a movie._

Giggling, Eddie continued to read, losing himself in Richie’s thoughts instead of his own. On the last page of Richie’s entries, he started a new circle of lyrics. Eddie turned the journal as he read, his smile bigger than it had been all week.

_It’s not supposed to feel this good casually holding hands, I wanna stay for the weekend, can I stay with you?_

Below the lyrics, Eddie noticed faded notes, as if they’d been erased. His eyes narrowed, and he held the journal to the lights to decipher what it said.

_Tell Eddie you love him._

Frozen, Eddie blinked several times before turning back the page. He scanned for any empty space, looking for the same erased message he could’ve initially missed. Sure enough, in the corner was the same erased note: _Tell Eddie you love him._

Going back another page, Eddie looked again, and again, and again, realizing the note had been moved countless times. The first appearance came several days before the first mention of his name. Richie avoided it for weeks, up until losing this journal.

Covering his mouth, Eddie glanced at the clock. He had an hour and a half until the play started, and he could see his bike in his mind, exactly where he left it this morning. Biting his lip, he watched the seconds tick by. The journal weighed a thousand pounds in his hands; he didn’t know what to do. Fortunately, his feet began moving before his brain did. Pushing through the heavy double doors, Eddie sprinted to his bike, the journal in hand as he pedaled faster than he ever had in his life.

Fourth thing he didn’t want today: being grossly sweaty, red faced, and out of breath when he told Richie he loved him back.

Once again, Eddie caught him outside with his van. He sat on the hood, reading comic books from a stack at his side. Noticing Eddie, his expression became annoyed - but only briefly. Confusion swiftly took over as Eddie stumbled off his bike, deserting it in the middle of the sidewalk.

“Eddie, what are you doing here? Isn’t the play like, now-”

Throwing all caution to the wind, Eddie gripped Richie’s shirt pulling him close and craning his neck to reach his lips for a kiss. His eyes were closed, but he was certain he didn’t miss...

Until no contact was made.

Peeking out of one eye, he saw Richie leaning away. Eddie stood, lips puckered for a kiss, looking like an idiot in Richie’s driveway. Scowling, he stepped back, his hands on his hips.

“This wasn’t as romantic as I pictured,” he mumbled. Richie snorted incredulously, stopping when he noticed the journal.

“Where did you- gimme that, it’s mine!” he shouted, lunging for the book. Eddie held it out of his reach, running around the van as Richie chased him. “Eddie, it’s not funny! If you’re trying to make me less mad, this isn’t the way!” Stopping only then, he stared up at Richie.

“Stop being mad,” he said quietly.

“Wow, why didn’t I think of that? Phew, big relief! Not mad, just like that! All done-”

“Richie, I’m so sorry,” Eddie interrupted. Turning to look through his window, he bit his lip. “I’m guessing you heard what Stan said. I shouldn’t have told him we were faking it; I shouldn’t have... I’m just really sorry, Richie. I didn’t know how you felt until now-” Richie flinched, clearing his throat to stop him.

“You’re gonna miss the play, Eds. This is your big chance at earning a scholarship, isn’t it? First impressions and all- I’ll give you a ride back,” he offered, snatching the journal and climbing into his van before Eddie could protest. Frowning, Eddie didn’t move until Richie started the car. Hesitantly, he slid into the passenger side, watching Richie as he drove.

“Don’t change the subject, Richie-”

“I’m not doing anything,” he said adamantly. Scoffing, Eddie rolled his eyes.

“You miss me too-” Richie waved Eddie off dismissively, placing his hand back on the wheel to turn off their street as Eddie continued. “-for fuck’s sake, you’re listening to breakup songs on your front lawn!” Richie opened his mouth to protest, but Eddie turned on the radio.

Steven Tyler’s voice crooned from the speakers, “ _Tell me what it takes to let you go.”_

Although Eddie missed his best friend, he could’ve done without bickering _immediately_. He imagined he would kiss Richie, they would make up, and then go do the play together as they originally planned. Knowing there was more wrong than he thought, he tried to speak up as they drove. Richie was hurrying through their neighborhood, desperate to cut the already brief ride. It didn’t take but ten minutes to get to the school by car.

“I don’t wanna do the play, Richie. I don’t care about NYU or scholarships, okay? I care about you,” he said earnestly. He reached out to touch Richie’s hand, but Richie shrugged him off.

“That’s stupid, Eddie. College is way more important than I am, so I’m not gonna let you screw yourself over,” he huffed. Eddie scowled, folding his arms over his chest. He nestled into his seat, glaring ahead as they passed by the houses. Kids were playing baseball in the empty lot outside of their neighborhood. Some of them were barely arriving to the game, hopping off their bikes to join. Richie used to drag them out to play when they were little, but neither of them were good on teams.

Thinking of those days, Eddie realized how he noticed Richie differently from other kids his age. For the first time, he remembered a moment when he saw Richie in the sunlight. He popped the caps of their soda bottles, handing Eddie his before taking a gulp of his own. Eddie stared up at him, the sunlight reflecting off the glass bottle, and also off of the rim of Richie’s glasses. He noticed his unruly curls, the freckles peppered across his cheek, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple; and he thought Richie was the softest boy he’d ever seen.

“Why are you avoiding this?” Eddie asked, his tone pleading as Richie stopped the van outside the auditorium. He gripped the steering wheel tightly, refusing to look in Eddie’s direction. “Richie, I miss you-”

“Stop! I don’t want you to-” Richie choked, finally facing Eddie. The eye contact proved too much, and his gaze shifted towards the dirty floor. “I don’t want you to hurt me again. It sucked, okay? It sucks. It _sucks!_ I don’t want you to go to New York and live happily ever after with Stan. I don’t want you to forget that I was your first boyfriend, even if it was all fake.” The words spilled out with no control, and in such a rush, sometimes he stumbled over them.

Silent for a moment, Eddie cautiously reached out to touch Richie’s face.

“I love you, Richie. I’m sorry I hurt you, and I’m sorry I didn’t figure it out sooner,” he whispered. Richie’s eyes, although hopeful, were guarded. Eddie leaned in, as did Richie, but with space still between them, they were interrupted by a banging on the window. Glaring, Eddie saw Beverly standing outside, a mixture of panic and irritation on her face. Hopping out of the van, Eddie didn’t have time to say anything before she was dragging him away.

“Beverly! Wait- I-” Casting a glance over his shoulder, he saw Richie watching after him. Much to his relief, he didn’t drive away. He motioned for him to go on, offering a small smile. His personal white flag.

“You’re just in time, but also: where the hell were you? Marcia nearly got her nasty little hands on your roles,” she chastised him, shaking her head as they took the steps up to the dressing rooms. The rest of the cast cheered, clearly relieved to see Eddie. Marcia stood in the corner, pouting bitterly as she changed into her costume.

Ignoring her glares, Eddie stared at himself in the mirror for a moment. Taking a breath, he started applying his makeup, determined to have everything perfect for tonight. Richie was right - something he never thought he’d admit to. He wanted to go to New York for as long as he remembered, and this was a stepping stone he couldn’t afford to miss.

Even if he didn’t want to admit it, Richie was right a lot. Richie knew Eddie better than he knew himself. No one else could have that privilege.

From the back of the auditorium, Richie stood, watching as the lights came down and the curtains opened. His hands in his pockets, he smiled when Eddie walked on stage. He could see the college teachers in the front row; it was easy to pick them out considering he knew everyone else in town. His eyes flickered from Eddie to the row of spectators, but sparingly. Eddie threw himself into performing, and it was hard to peel his attention off of him. When the play ended, Richie was the first to start clapping, whistling for Eddie to hear. The attendees in front stood up, and the rest of the rows followed suit in a wave. Grinning, Richie slipped out of the doors, searching for the front office.

He didn’t have time to fetch flowers from a store, but he knew where he could find some.

Meanwhile, Eddie stood on stage, bowing with the entire cast to the sounds of applause he’d always craved. The curtains closed on them, and he remained on stage for a minute, beaming with pride. He waited for everyone else to change, knowing his parents were going to meet him in the parking lot. Switching into his normal clothes, he wiped the makeup from his face, waving goodbye to his friends as they left.

The door opened, long after everyone left, and Eddie expected to see someone coming back to fetch something.

Instead, he saw Richie.

“You didn’t just break a leg, Eds. You turned everyone into Bran the Broken,” he joked. Eddie tilted his head, smiling, although he didn’t understand the joke. Richie shook his head, handing him a bouquet of flowers. “It’s a Game of Thrones joke.” Scoffing, Eddie took the flowers, breathing in the smell.

“You know I’m too pretty to watch that,” he said. Richie stuck out his tongue, ruffling Eddie’s hair.

“Shut up and let me compliment you. I’m proud, Spaghetti Man!” he exclaimed, pulling Eddie up to twirl him around. Laughing, Eddie let Richie lead him out of the dressing room, switching the lights off behind him. They walked onto the stage, a sea of empty seats before them. Eddie paused, center stage, looking over the bouquet more carefully.

“Richard, did you take these from the secretary’s desk?!” he shouted, dropping the flowers. Richie mocked offense, but upon seeing Eddie’s frown, he held up his hands and nodded.

“I was on a time crunch!” Richie approached Eddie slowly, unsure of what to do with his hands. For a moment, neither of them spoke, a distance between them which they both wanted to close. Naturally, Richie couldn’t stay quiet. “Tell me again.”

“Huh?”

“Tell me you love me. I believe we were on to something, before we were interrupted,” he whispered, leaning in closer. Eddie’s breath hitched. His heart slammed around in his rib cage; he could feel the pulse in his head. Richie made him dizzy, but in the best way possible.

Suddenly, music began playing, increasing in volume abruptly. A spotlight shone on them, and Eddie yelped, startled as he jumped away. Both of them turned to see Beverly at the soundboard, holding up her thumbs and grinning from ear to ear.

“Marsh, you’re really starting to salt my french fries,” Richie complained as she grabbed her backpack and pointed finger guns at them. Excusing herself to the hall, she left them alone in the new mood lighting. “What is this song- why does she just have this on hand?” Bursting with giggles, Eddie hid his face in Richie’s chest.

Richie couldn’t help but smile; in this exact spot, nearly five months ago, he fell in love with Eddie’s giggle - and subsequently, Eddie.

“We almost did a production of Sixteen Candles; we needed this song for the last scene,” he explained, laughter still in his voice. As the synths echoed from the speakers, Richie cupped Eddie’s face in one hand. He ran his thumb along his cheek, his other hand brushing Eddie’s hair back. He fantasized about a moment like this for so long; he wanted to appreciate the gift he held.

“Was this the romance you wanted when you tried to assault me on my lawn?” Richie teased. Eddie’s mouth twisted, his brow furrowing and his cheeks turning a slight pink. “I’m kidding, Eds! You can’t get mad at me; the song is only like three minutes.” Unable to stop himself, Eddie chuckled.

Richie’s hands found Eddie’s, guiding them to his shoulders. He placed his own hands on Eddie’s waist, stepping in a small circle with him. The song filled the room; the acoustics were perfect. It felt as though they were in a movie themselves. The credits would roll as soon as they kissed.

“You know, Rich,” Eddie whispered, one hand on his neck, “I’ve heard the comedy club scene in New York is really good. So is the music. Nightclubs.” The offer didn’t go unnoticed. Richie’s smile stretched across his face, and he stopped, mid-dance.

“I love you, Eddie Kaspbrak,” he said.

Beaming at his best friend, Eddie slowly closed his eyes, leaning in. Richie’s lips met his, and he felt the warmth spread through his whole body. This kiss was better than all its predecessors; this kiss was the first where they knew it was mutual.

“I love you too, Richie Tozier,” he whispered, stealing one more loving peck.


End file.
